Beats Per Minute
by Lil'MissGoodyTwoShoes
Summary: Skye had no cure for insomnia; though, as far as she knew, no one did. Everyone, no matter how smart, or how strong, or how skilled, would eventually fall prey to the sleeplessness that followed the famed adrenaline rush.
1. No Good

_**Summary: **Skye had no cure for insomnia; though, as far as she knew, no one did. Everyone, no matter how smart, or how strong, or how skilled, would eventually fall prey to the sleeplessness that followed the famed adrenaline rush._

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Agents of SHIELD or its characters._

* * *

**Beats Per Minute**

**Chapter 1: No Good**

Skye had no cure for insomnia; though, as far as she knew, no one did. Everyone, no matter how smart, or how strong, or how skilled, would eventually fall prey to the sleeplessness that followed the famed adrenaline rush.

She was aware that every single member of her team had suffered from the disorder, the day's haunting events keeping them up at night. But, the one person she knew struggled the most with such a condition was Agent Grant Ward.

And it seemed, to her atleast, that the only place he found solace was the heavy bag; it was strangely comforting, the steady rhythm of his work-out, the sound of his punches resonating around the empty halls of the Bus in the dead of night.

She felt sorry for him, she really did. He wasn't a people person, that much was clear. He had no one to open up to, to talk to.

So she reached out: desperate to prove to him that she was willing and able to console him, hopeful that he would accept her offer, and he would finally find peace at night.

...

"Do you know what time it is?"

Skye was _not_ a happy camper. Not only was it fucking _3 a.m. in the morning_, but her SO was pounding away at the bag, pummeling it's sleek surface with his bloodied fists, "And, to boot, do you know you're bleeding!?"

This was not the first time that she had found him down here playing thumb wars with the bag. It was starting to get on her nerves-something had to be done.

"No one asked you, Skye!"

Ward was not a happy camper, either. Sure, it was early, but he didn't mind (Why would he?). It wasn't like he could sleep anyways. Insomnia was a blasted thing, it's slobbering jaws always taking hold of him at night, chasing away the sweet solace of sleep.

So, he settled for a late-night drill, taking all his dread, anguish, and anger out on the poor punching bag. Consequently, his Rookie was now standing on the balcony above him, hands on her hips, seemingly quite mad.

"Yeah, well, I don't care whether or not you 'asked me!' I am _tired_, and was _happy_ to sleep, but somebody couldn't keep it down and woke the _entirety_ of the Bus!"

Quite mad, indeed.

"Sorry," he muttered, and he really was. Not that she would know that.

"Mmm, hmm. Sure you are."

Ward paused, and looked up at her, "I really am, Skye. I'm sorry."

She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.

"Why aren't _you_ asleep? And are you planning on cleaning up that blood, or do you need help?"

"It's nothing-skin deep."

"Oh, I've heard that one before," she told him, trailing down the stairs, making her way towards him, "C'mon."

"Where are we going?" Grant asked her, protesting against the gentle tug at his wrist.

"To clean it up," Skye declared, as if it were obvious.

"Why?

The brunette turned to face him, her nose wrinkled in confusion.

"Why? What do you mean, 'why?'"

"Why would you clean my wound? I told you, it's nothing. I'll take care of it."

She sighed, "Yeah, and last time I heard that you had been _shot_, protecting FitzSimmons!"

"Skye, that's my _job_," Ward reminded her, yet again.

Skye whirled around, her shoulders squared and her eyes livid.

"It is not your job to beat yourself up, it is not your job to sugar coat this shit, and it is not your job to be the 'good guy.' Because we are not the good guys. Sure, we beat the 'bad guys,' but we're bad guys, too: we lie, we kill, and we cheat, we hack, we hit, and we fight. There is no rainbows and butterflies, no, this is Asgardian aliens, traitorous psychopaths, and raging wars."

Skye paused and looked him straight in the eye. She looked at his rigid jaw, his hands limp at his sides, and the dark bags under his eyes. He knew the truth and so did she. She stepped a little closer and took his much larger hand in her own:

"We are the baddest of them all."

Ward stared right back at her, closing his fingers around her finding comfort and familiarity in her supple appendages.

"You're right, Skye," he admitted, "I am not a good man."

"I know, Ward. I know. I'm no good, either."

* * *

**Hey, you. Yeah, you. See that little 'review' button down there? Yep, that one. He's a little lonely. Oh, and P.S. I think I might make this a multi-chapter fic. Whatcha' think?**


	2. Pieces to the Puzzle

**Beats Per Minute**

**Chapter 2: Pieces to the Puzzle**

About a year ago, if you had asked Skye, the lazy, brooding hacker, to wake up at crazy o'clock and do I-can't-count-that-high thousand push-ups, she would have laughed in your face and scowled at your incompetency. But, nevertheless, twelve months later, that was exactly what she was doing; she was standing there, lashing out recklessly at the heavy bag, grunting with the effort.

It was all his fault: it was his fault she was up late, his fault she had cried herself silly, his fault she felt broken, betrayed.

He had tricked them all, played along and beat them at their own game. Of course, with her luck, she'd fallen head over heels for that dashing man of hers.

And somehow, she genuinely thought he liked her back.

But she was just being silly. No one had ever loved her back, and why should they? She was a screw-up, a royal mess. Nothing could fix her, piece her back together. Heaven knows why she thought _he_ could.

...

Ward lay in his bed, looking up at the ceiling-the drab, gray, checkered ceiling. He tapped his foot against the rickety frame, playing along to the tune trapped in his head.

It surprised him really, how calm he was about this whole situation. Seriously, he was a prisoner in his own ship, so to speak.

He was stunned (to say the least), when he heard a steady rhythm, much like his own, echoing throughout the halls.

It was _her_. He knew it. He could feel it.

She was hard at work, he could tell, pounding away relentlessly.

It reminded him of that time she had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

Skye had crept up on him, hair mussed, clothes wrinkled, and demanded an explanation. _Why was he up so goddamn early? _

He had no answer for her, besides the fact that he had been struggling with a particularly violent bout of insomnia.

And somehow, she had mustered up the patience to tend to his bloodied fists and his broken heart. She had peiced him back together using a super glue all her own.

...

He listened to her timing, her beat. He counted. 89 beats per minute. No wonder it had so readily caught his attention.

...

_"You know, they say that when you look at someone you love, your heart rate increases," I teased._

_"Oh, really?" she laughed._

_"Yeah."_

_"Well, let's test it then, shall we?"_

_"Of course, my love."_

_"Off we go!"_

_I launched myself after her, chasing my lover down the hall. She plopped down on the sofa and gestured for me to sit across from her. _

_"So, I'll relax, and cover my eyes. You count the beats per minute, 'kay?"_

_"'Kay."_

_The beautiful brunette across from me giggled a little before she took a deep breath and shut her eyes._

_I relished the look on her face-the pure content I found there made _me_ content._

_When a full minute had passed, I announced to her, "74 beats per minute."_

_"Alright, now take it again."_

_I complied, pressing my two fingers against her delicate wrist._

_She looked at me, her eyes alight. _

_I looked carefully, admiring the scenes I found there. I saw the green forest, full of life, bustling with lively beings. I saw the oceans, their aquamarine waves crashing on the shore. I saw the mountains, their peaks pressing against the gold skye. I saw all I held precious there, hidden in her brown orbs._

_At the end of 60 seconds, I leaned forward and touched my lips to hers._

_I murmured against her lips, "89 beats per minute." _

_"I guess it's true then, huh?"_

_"You think so?" I asked her._

_"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" she asked, her brow knit in worry,"I love you, Grant. Very much."_

_"You love the unlovable? You love the meanest, most menacing monster there is? You love the deepest, darkest secret I know? That's a lot of love, Skye. That's more love than anyone has," I told her. It was true, I am a merciless assassin, a killer doing exactly as he's told._

_"No, I don't love the monster, the secret, or the unlovable. I love the most honest, responsible, creative man I know. You're right Ward, no one has that much love, certainly not me. But I have enough love to love you," she looked me straight in the eye, just as she had done all those night ago, and told me the truth. It was the one thing no one could dispute: when Skye looked straight at you, she'd never lie to you._

_"I love you," I told her._

_"I love you," she answered right back._

_..._

1...2...3...

Skye clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth to dust.

13...14...15...

She'd loved him.

25...26...27...

She'd trusted him.

41...42...43...

She'd given him her all.

58...59...60...

And it hadn't been enough.

71...72...73...

She'd given him her heart.

79...80...81...

And he torn it to pieces.

87...88...89...

Just like everyone else.

...

1...2...3...

He had told her he loved her.

13...14...15...

And she'd told him she loved him.

25...26...27...

He'd told her he never leave her, ever.

41...42...43...

She'd told him she'd never walk away.

58...59...60...

He'd told her that he'd never hurt her.

71...72...73...

She told him, she didn't believe him-he'd make a mistake, he was only human.

79...80...81...

She was right. She always was.

87...88...89...

He'd hurt her.


End file.
